Кэйго Хигасино - Newcomer

“Oh, yeah.” Shuhei drank the last of his coffee. He was surprised how thirsty he was.

“Okay, good. Thanks for your time,” said the shorter detective.

“Yes, thanks for helping with the investigation.”

The detective in the checked shirt was holding out the plastic bag to Shuhei. “I’ll throw that away for you.”

“Oh... uh... thanks.” Shuhei dropped his empty can in the bag.

Yoriko was waiting just outside the main entrance when Shuhei got back to the restaurant.

“How did it go? What did they want to know?” she asked.

Shuhei hemmed and hawed, unable to improvise a convincing story off the cuff.

“Was it about the snack cakes?” she asked.

Taken aback, Shuhei nodded. The police must have told Yoriko what they planned to question him about.

“You bought some small cakes three days ago and they wanted to know what you’d done with them, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“What did you say?”

Shuhei repeated the story he had told the detectives. What else could he do?

He was expecting Yoriko to yell at him for ducking out to buy sweets during working hours, but instead she just inquired what else the police had asked him about.

“Nothing else.”

“I see. Well, hurry up and get back to work.”

“Yes, ma’am. What’s this all about, though? I mean, what do the detectives want with me?”

Yoriko looked slightly uncomfortable.

“Three days ago, in the evening, there was a murder over in Kodenmacho. The police are looking into it.”

“In Kodenmacho? What’s that got to do with me?”

“Apparently, the police found some small cakes in the woman’s apartment. They’re looking for anyone who bought some that day.”

Shuhei gasped. Suddenly the roof of his mouth felt dry and a wave of heat surged through him. He tried to conceal his shock.

“How did they find out that I’d bought some?” Shuhei muttered. His voice was hoarse.

“Goodness knows. They didn’t go into detail with me. Anyway, you’ve got nothing to do with any murder, have you?”

Shuhei shook his head frantically. “I didn’t even know that there’d been a murder.”

“Well then, you’ve got nothing to worry about, have you? Go on, enough dawdling. Back to work. We mustn’t inconvenience our customers.” Yoriko’s tone was stern.

“Sorry, ma’am,” said Shuhei. With an apologetic duck of the head, he headed back to the kitchen.

After lunch was over, Shuhei had a short break. He discreetly went looking through the stack of old newspapers and found a story on the murder in the evening edition from the day before yesterday. The victim was a woman of forty-five living alone in Kodenmacho who’d been strangled in her apartment. Based on the crime scene, the police thought that she probably knew her killer. They also thought that it was highly likely that the crime had taken place sometime between late afternoon and early evening.

Snack cakes weren’t mentioned in the article. The police were probably keeping that detail from the public.

A bead of sweat dribbled from his armpit as Shuhei pictured the faces of the detectives who had questioned him.

Shuhei was familiar with the rumors about Taiji, Yoriko’s husband, having a woman on the side. He’d heard his coworkers gossiping. They’d even said something about him having set her up in an apartment in Kodenmacho.

Three days ago was hardly the first time that Taiji had had Shuhei buy a batch of small sweet cakes for him. As soon as Shuhei gave him the cakes, Taiji would head out somewhere. Taiji didn’t go toward the subway station; it was more in the opposite direction. If you walked in that direction for ten minutes or so, you’d end up in Kodenmacho.

Shuhei had always assumed that the cakes were a present for Taiji’s girlfriend.

And now there’d been a murder in Kodenmacho. And they had found the same sort of cakes he’d bought that afternoon in the victim’s apartment.

Shuhei prayed that the whole thing was nothing more than an unfortunate coincidence — but there were too many coincidences for comfort. And the detectives had come to talk to him specifically, when there had to be hundreds of customers who bought those cakes from that particular shop on any given day.

Was it Taiji’s lover who’d been murdered? That would mean... Shuhei’s imagination was running wild, but he had no one to confide in. Mistress Yoriko was out of the question, as were his coworkers. He wondered about talking to Taiji, but he quickly abandoned the idea. He’d only get yelled at: “How dare you accuse your own boss of being a murderer!”

All the worrying kept him from concentrating on his work. He made countless small slipups that night and was subjected to repeated tongue-lashings from his coworkers and the head cook.

The following evening, the detective in the checked shirt showed up at the restaurant. This time, he was wearing a charcoal gray jacket and was there as a customer. After leading him to his table, Shuhei went back to check the reservation list. The detective’s name was Kaga.

“Hah, you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” said Kaga merrily. “I suppose you think an underpaid cop like me has no business coming to a swanky joint like this?”

“Of course not, sir.” Shuhei lowered his eyes.

“Think I’ll start off with one of those Hida craft beers,” said Kaga, without bothering to consult the drink menu. He obviously remembered their conversation from the day before.

In the evenings at Matsuya, they served from a prix fixe menu only. Shuhei first brought Kaga his beer, together with an amuse-bouche, then began to serve the appetizers. Kaga asked for the drink menu.

“The mistress’s sake pairing menu looks interesting. Think I’ll go for that.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hey, have you got a sweet tooth?” Kaga asked as Shuhei was about to head to the kitchen.

Shaking his head vigorously, Shuhei was on the verge of saying no, when he recalled his claim to have eaten an entire box of snack cakes by himself.

“Yes... uh... I quite like sweet things.”

“Funny that you went for the no-sugar option, then.”

“The no-sugar option?”

“The canned coffee.” Kaga drank down the last of his beer. “You chose the can of sugar-free.”

Shuhei gave a start. Kaga was right. Out of habit, he had gone for the sugar-free coffee.

“Coffee’s different... I prefer it without sugar.”

“Oh, do you?” Kaga put his empty glass down on the table. “All right, let’s get started on the sake.”

“On the double, sir,” said Shuhei and went off.

What’s that detective fellow on about now? Who cares about a stupid can of coffee?

Shuhei had broken out in a cold sweat. He knew that Kaga hadn’t really come to the restaurant just to have dinner. The detective hadn’t believed his story about eating all the snack cakes himself and was there to subject him to another round of questions.

There was no one he could turn to for help. He had no choice: he had to wait on the detective.

“This sake is from Akita Prefecture. It’s called Rokushu,” explained Shuhei, pouring a measure from a small earthenware bottle into a sake cup, which he had placed in front of Kaga. “It’s a carbonated sake. The bubbles come from its being fermented twice.”

“Delicious,” said Kaga, after taking a sip. “It reminds me of champagne. Is it made the same way?”

“I... uhm... think so, yes. They put yeast in junmai-shu — that’s sake made without any added alcohol or sugar — and then referment it.”

“With champagne, they add a little sugar along with the yeast. How about with this sake?”

“Co... could you wait a moment, sir? I need to go and ask someone.”